The Best Part Of Believe Is The Lie
by KittyRain
Summary: I don't really know a good summary for this... Just the musings of Draco Malfoy during Tranfiguration. Set during HBP,kind of like a missing scene.


**Fantasy is Make Believe. The Best Part Of Believe Is The Lie.**

**AN: ****Just a quick note. First, long title, I know, I'm sorry, it just fits. Dedicated to my Lisie, because I feel as though I owe her this, after torturing her with some bad grammar in a few stories. Part of this was taken from a story I wrote about an OC, but I thought it fit with this as well. **

**xXx xXx xXx xXx**

The scratching of quills, the furious whispers of those trying to get a little response from their friends, the soft cooing of the pigeon sitting in front of me.

I stared at it, pausing in the writing of notes. It's beady eye simply watching me, unlike all the other small owls and lovebirds placed in front of the other students in the Transfiguration class my pigeon was incredibly calm. Not that the other birds were panicky, if I was brutally honest they just seemed bored, trying to make more noise than the others in the room.

Only my pigeon was quiet. Watching me. Watching me watch it. Too much watching. I dropped my gaze to the scroll of parchment in front of me, the looping handwriting that no longer felt like mine glinting softly in the candlelight in the places it was not quite dry. The spell to transfigure a small bird into an hourglass and back again was my title. The parchment almost filled with boring notes on precision and technique. Stupid notes. Stupid class. Stupid school.

I didn't want to be here. I didn't deserve to be here. I'm a bad guy right? Bad guys don't deserve to be welcomed into their school. The bad guys get locked away for ever, or killed by the brave prince on his way to rescue the princess.

The pigeon blinked. I looked back up just in time to see it do that innocent action. It's black eye staring into my grey orbs, looking much deeper than I ever thought a bird could. It was as if this pigeon could see into my soul, read my thoughts, witness my inner feelings.

But that was stupid, it was just a bird, it couldn't see all that. Could it?

Maybe there are hidden talents of birds. Perhaps they can feel a person's happiness, singing to mirror the emotions. Do they feel a person's guilt?

Did this pigeon know what happened to that bird last week?

I reached out my hand, my notes forgotten as I stroked a finger over the pigeon's head. It just made that purring noise all pigeons make, it's feathers felt smooth under my fingers as they ran down it's back, to return to stroke the bird again. The noise coming from the animal before me made it sound like it was purring at my actions as I silently apologised for killing that bird. I hadn't wanted too, I didn't know that putting the poor thing inside the Vanishing Cabinet was signing it's death sentence.

I felt sick as thoughts of what I needed to do came to my head. Horrible thoughts of what I had been ordered to do. I felt my stomach twist violently and I just wanted to curl up on the floor, to fall asleep, sleep away the pain. Sleep away the thoughts. Sleep away the year.

The pigeon seemed to understand my desire, it's eyes closed as it's neck ruffled, settling back to sleep. Lucky bird.

I raised my hand slowly, looking to Professor McGonagall as I waited for her to acknowledge me. She did so with a nod.

"Professor, may I go to the bathroom. Please?"

Perhaps it was the fact a Malfoy had just said 'please' but she simply nodded, her eyebrows raised in humble surprise.

I rose from my seat and left the room, feeling everyone's stares on me, but none more so than Potter's.

I knew he had been following me for a while, he suspected me. I honestly didn't blame him, I had tried so hard to hide my actions, probably too hard, someone was bound to notice, perhaps Potter wasn't as stupid as I made him out to be.

I splashed cold water on my face, it felt like a small relief against my too warm skin, I sighed as I looked into the mirror, my thoughts running away from the bathroom where I was stood, leaving reality behind. My reflection staring back at me as my thoughts delve into themselves.

It feels, at times, as though my life is drawn out before me, commanding me through images to 'do this' or 'go there'. It isn't black or white, yet it isn't full of colour, I see colours perfectly, yet I feel as though I live my life in grey. Ironic really, given my eye colour. The stone orbs looking blankly back at me.

It was a given I would be in Slytherin, it was that way for all my family. I really had no choice in the matter, and I can still hear the Sorting Hat's shrill cry of 'Slytherin!' as soon as it touched my head.

Sometimes I reflect on whether I would be the way I am if I were in a different house. Admittedly I wouldn't mind Ravenclaw, and I still refuse to be Gryffindor.

It was also a given I would become a Death Eater, following in my father's footsteps. I didn't want to become one, but it's either that, or be killed as a 'traitor'. I has actually wanted to become an Auror. How ironic is that? I wanted to become a dark wizard catcher. I have a cousin who is an auror, but of course she iss a 'blood traitor' so she is never spoken about. I did know she's a Metamorphmagus. I envy that, I would love to have the ability to change my appearance, I could go into hiding and live my life the way I want.

"Malfoy!"

The sharp tone of Potter's voice brought be back into harsh reality. I turned to see him stood at the doorway, suspicion evident in his eyes, "McGonagall sent me to look for you" He said drily, "What are you doing in here?"

"Not that it's any of your business, Potter" I snarled at him, "But I was thinking"

He simply stared at me, his green eyes still full of the suspicion they have held since September. "You don't have to do this alone Malfoy" he said calmly, "I could help"

I laughed at that, "How could you help me?"

He shrugged, I wanted to slap him for the way he was acting so casual, "I don't know, but you don't have to do anything you don't want"

There he goes again, perfect Potter trying to save the day. He couldn't help me, he's the kind of person to be a prince, riding off to rescue the damsel in distress, I'm the dragon defeated in battle and left to be forgotten.

"You know nothing about me Potter" I hissed at him, all my anger coming out at once, "And the next tie you take to stalking me into the bathroom I won't be so civil"

I walked past him, glaring at his still calm face, wanting nothing more than to throw a good hex at him. But I withheld. I made my way silently back to my seat in Transifguration. I looked at my pigeon friend, it seemed to know just how I was feeling as it blinked up at me. Perhaps if I free the poor thing after this lesson it would bring back a little Karma. I wasn't usually one to believe in that, but if I'm doomed to have the negative role in the fictional fantasy that everyone calls reality I feel like I can throw my usual mannerisms away for a brief moment. Even if what I need to do will destroy more than a pigeon's life.

At least I could take pleasure in knowing my pigeon friend wasn't here to see me at my worst when I had to kill Albus Dumbledore.


End file.
